Duality
by Rish Tor
Summary: They always said True Love was the strongest magic of them all. Little did they know just how right they were.


_I don't know what this is…_

_If you enjoy yay, if not, also cool. I'd be confused too. This is basically my first attempt at writing something after a verrrry long hiatus..._

_But OUAT got me writing again so that's a plus. (Hopefully now I'll finally get around to that second chapter of Echoes like I promised)_

_Branches from near the end of 4.08._

_And still… not a single clue as to what the hell this is..._

* * *

><p>Okay, so this hadn't been the smartest idea ever. Or really, at all.<p>

In fact, this was probably holding its own at the top of the list of all the stupid things Emma had ever done. Ever. And that was a long list. Basically, it had been an all around stupid plan. Ten steps past idiotic really.

But it had worked.

Sort of.

Maybe?

Whatever the case was, Emma is now on her hands and knees, fighting to both draw in breath and clear the crushing blackness from her vision. All of her senses are dull, leaving her feeling like she's been submerged in water for too long. Distantly, the sounds of raised voices register, but it's too hard to focus through the waves crashing in her head.

She isn't entirely sure if this plan is going to even allow her survival.

Stupid fucking plan.

She doesn't even know if it'll even work the way she wants. Or remotely at all.

Clearly, the emotional upheaval of today has taken its toll on her sanity; how else could she possibly even come up with something as exponentially insane?

The two hearts currently residing in her chest seem to thump in agreement. It sends another magical shudder through her and the aura of mystical power that had appeared as soon as she slammed the organ into her core. Her insides twist angrily at the abomination she's created within herself and she retches blindly.

Thoughts as sluggish as molasses, Emma comes to the conclusion she has definitely gone absolutely bonkers.

If she ever gets a chance to look back on recent events in greater detail, she will ponder the choice she's just made for all eternity. Of course, survival is still questionable in this instance.

However, she will never exactly know what drew her outside as soon as Elsa helped her regain control of her power. Be it that part of her heart somehow was sensing Killian was in trouble, the faint remainder of wild magic seeking its final escape or the faintest sounds of pain, it matters not. All that does is she stepped onto the front porch of the mansion just as Gold stepped away from where Killian was trapped against the fence, something small and glowing vibrantly in his hand.

It took less than a second to realize that Gold had taken Killian's heart and was undoubtedly going to do nothing good with it.

It took another second for Elsa to step outside behind her, a small gasp escaping the Ice Queen's lips, as Emma's mind raced for a solution. A plan. A something.

Yet another second went by, this time with memories of a witch and a whirlpool and a hand in her chest flooding her thoughts, and the sight of her parents and son rounding the corner of the driveway.

And the final second for the half-baked, idiotic, completely unfounded plan, to take root.

Reaching out on instinct, not even noticing that Gold is finally taking note of her presence or Killian's panicked shout of 'no, Emma!,' she lets the magic flow and _pulls_.

And that heart, the precious heart that is so rightfully hers now, just as her heart belongs to him, flies through the air and lands gently in her outstretched palm.

An instant is all it takes for the sight of the shocked and morphing-to-outraged look on Gold's face for her to realize this utterly dumb ass plan of hers is all she's got.

Time slows, Gold's reaching hand still turning from Killian, her family starting to break into a run, Elsa behind her starting to say her name and Killian's look of utter distress changing to hope, and she does it.

Slams Killian's heart directly into the center of her chest.

Like an idiot.

Because she has no idea what the fucking hell she's doing.

Emma's calling this idea, _insanity born of desperation_. Or something of the sort.

Which leaves her here. On her hands and knees, mind spinning and body heavy, as she listens helplessly to Gold approach. She thinks that maybe Elsa had tried to stop him, because the air is significantly colder than before she went bat shit crazy, but that could also be a side affect of having a mystical heart (which isn't actually hers) inside her body. Either way, she can no longer sense her friend nearby and a tendril of worry filters out from the clamor in her skull.

And then everything goes quiet just as Gold's shoes snap into focus in her narrow frame of sight. Silence. Not outside of course, Killian and David and Mary Margaret and Henry are all yelling frantically, but the mad babble in her head ceases.

Her vision clears and body lightens.

Her breathing regulates and the shakes stop.

And more.

Just as a hand reaches to grab her by her hair, the crocodile no doubt intending to yank her up and take back what he stole, Emma is on her feet and a meter back in a movement flooded with magic. Power feels as though it's dripping from her very fingertips and this time it's not out of her control. It sizzles and snaps at her limbs and crackles from her hair that whips in a non-existent wind. It tastes of cinnamon on hot chocolate, smells of sea air and leather and feels like a trusty yellow bug.

And she can see _everything_.

She can see the magic swirling through the air and ground, little eddies of nature's power dancing in small waves and pulsating calming colours. She can see the magic that seems to ooze from her parents, the magic that is True Love shimmering gold so bright, it's nearly blinding. She sees the core of each individuals being, their auras of blazing colours and emotions.

Peering down at her chest in childish curiosity, her mind too overwhelmed to function on full capacity (not that it was to begin with, clearly), Emma becomes entranced at what she sees. Shooting off from her aura, a rather entrancing mixture of greens and blues with a few dapples of white, is a handful of small cords of colour, leading directly to the auras of the others.

One such is the tiny silver and indigo strand shimmering through the darkness of the evening to attach itself to the slumped figure of Elsa, where she lays at the foot of the mansions steps, still unconscious from when Gold had thrown her away. Another is a much larger strand of pale red and dark amber connects her to Henry, and it seems to radiate more strength than it ought, likely the power belonging to the heart of the truest believer. The strands that lead to David and Mary Margaret are similar, both a mixture of yellows and pinks, but her fathers contain flecks of silver while her mothers is dappled in light blue. And the cord connecting her to Killian is dull and listless, the gold and purples faint as they slide off the empty aura of the pirate with no heart.

There is a small handful of other cords bursting from her aura that lead off into the distance and she sets to studying them, trying to figure where they lead on feeling and colour alone. She purposely ignores the two broken ones that twine gently about her wrists, unable to connect to the dead whom they belong to.

Fascinated as she is by the dizzying array of colours filling her vision and the feel of earth's magic eagerly lapping at her legs like a puppy, she misses the shouts that arise from her family. Misses how her parents and son all surge forward, only to be held back by a wave of Gold's hand. Doesn't see how Killian continues to struggle against the fence, the brilliant blue of his eyes swamped with a dull panic.

It does not matter though.

As Gold's hand surges towards her chest to retrieve his stolen prize, Emma's gaze snaps up to stare deep into the black pit that is the crocodile. Purposely ignoring how his hand pierces her chest and closes around her hearts, she nearly gags at the cloying stench of darkness that rolls off of him in thick black waves. As the maniacal look falls from his face and he struggles to free his hand, she stares deep into the black aura that seems to swallow Gold whole. It appears bottomless at first, simply a swirling mass of oily black and tinged with crimson, but after a second, three small, practically needle thin, cords become visible.

The first is a dull grey and brown in colour and it waves slowly and brokenly in the air, unconnected to another soul, leaving Emma to guess this was once Gold's connection to his first wife and love Milah. The second is much brighter but still muted combination of dark blue and yellow that reminds her faintly of her own connection with her parents, making Emma realize that this cord is what connects the crocodile to Neal, the son he travelled realms to find again. It is also broken, but wrapped around his wrist, a clear indicator of the love he still and will forever hold for his child.

The last cord is the brightest and strongest of them all, a slightly burnished gold and light blue that leads off into the distance and must be his love for Belle. But this cord is slowly being choked through by the blackness, cracking and breaking at a handful of points.

The magic swirling through her is starting to crackle, the unnatural white magic impossible to be contained by one soul. It begins to break through her flesh in small bursts of light as it seeks escape, splitting skin, but Emma hardly notices, too entranced and reviled by the darkness that stands before her.

Mindless to her own actions, Emma gently removed Gold's hand from her chest, the white magic sliding from her finger tips latching into the man's skin and burning, stares into the black pit, not seeing the panic that is bubbling within the crocodile. And then slams her free hand into his chest, drawing his heart free from its fleshy confines as though she was cradling something incredibly fragile.

The light magic that is cracking through her hands and slowly making it's way up her forearms, shimmers angrily at the presence of such foulness near them. Emma silences it's protests with a gentle hush and ignores how the crocodile has fallen to his knees, face dazed and terrified.

Lifting the blackened and shriveled organ to her nose, she peers into its depth. And then blows out a gentle breath.

Magic surges forward to the black heart and sets to work, repairing and cleansing, peeling away the darkness in small flakes and filling it's core with a flush of light. At her feet, Gold screams and writhes in pain, the pain of transformation transcending even the lack of heart but she remains blissfully unaware as her magic rushes through her, only noting how the enchanted organs beating speeds up as it's owner struggles. As bits of darkness flee from the overwhelming light, Gold's life flashes before her eyes, from the moment he began to remember as a child, all the way until she tore his heart from his chest only seconds ago. When it's over, Emma is flooded with a mixture of pity, sadness and rage for the twisted man before her.

Finally, her work is done, the last of the darkness chipping away and drifting off in the soft breeze, leaving behind a brilliant and blazing ruby red heart. Pleased, she cradles the long abused heart to her chest and murmurs nonsense to it has the frantic beating slows. Gold remains gasping and wheezing on the ground, tears still sliding down his cheeks.

Crouching, Emma cocks her head to study the trembling man. Then she speaks in a voice not entirely her own.

"This is a gift Rumplestiltskin, one you do not deserve. But Belle, pure of heart, does. Use it wisely."

Then she slams the heart home.

An explosion of magic surges from the Dark One, blasting outwards in a path of destruction. All the darkness that was still caught in the immortal has been pushed out by the clean and pure heart now residing in his chest and it flees angrily. With a small wave, Emma raises glimmering white barriers around all those present to protect them and watches as the blackness races off through the night.

By now, having been freed from Gold's magic but wise enough to be wary of the two sorcerers, David has made his way to Elsa's side, helping the still confused sorcerer back onto her feet, while Mary Margaret and Henry stand by Hook, watching the proceedings with matching looks of fear. They all jump in shock when they become surrounded by a bubble of pure white magic, wincing when dark claws scraped over the shields not a second later. In that instant, the savior and crocodile vanish from view.

When the blackness finally clears and the white walls vanish, the scene that meets their eyes could almost be described as heart wrenching.

Gold is on his knees, arms wrapped around Emma's legs, weeping unashamedly. Tears flow freely down his face, incredible sobs wracking his body in vicious shakes so powerful, it appears as though they could shake him apart at the seems. Through the sounds of his gasping sobs, the watchers can barely make out the mumble of words tumbling from the crocodile's lips.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…" Over and over, an endless loop of babble. David stares in active horror as a small smile graces his daughter's lips and she strokes a gentle hand over Gold's head in comfort. By now, the light bursting from his eldest child's arms has spider-webbed itself to just past her elbows and is still spreading slowly. But what chills him to the bone is the glazed look in eyes that are quite literally glowing in the gloom like green lanterns.

It's Henry who approaches first, warily moving closer to his mother and grandfather as if approaching two wild animals. As his shoes crunch over the gravel, Gold flinches at each step but Emma remains motionless.

Impassive.

Blank.

David keeps a careful hand on Snow's waist, holding her close as his wife presses a horrified hand to her mouth. At his side, Elsa fidgets anxiously, the cool aura surrounding her further emphasizing her nerves.

And Hook.

Hook stands off to the left, utterly still and David can see the dull shock and fear still rolling in the heart-less pirates eyes. As much as he hates to admit it, a wave of sympathy for the one handed man floods through David's chest, because he knows all to well the sensation of watching the love of his life in utter peril.

"Mom?" Henry's voice is small and scared and David knows that the boy's eyes are likely wide with the same fear that fills them all.

Emma's only reaction is to tilt her head slightly and stare at Henry, through Henry, all the while keeping a calming hand on Gold's head as the shaking man continues to cry. The light that bursts from the flesh along her arms seems to flare and writhe angrily.

"Mom?" Henry tries again, taking another step closer so he stands only a few small feet away from Emma and Gold and in that instance, David jolts, realizing his grandson is now too far away for him to protect should Gold decide to snap out of whatever daze he's in.

"Mom, I think you should give Hook back his heart," Henry murmurs, moving closer still and reaching out with a trembling hand and tension rackets through David's spine. Out of the corner of his eye, he notes with dull satisfaction that Hook is also shifting into a fighting stance, ready to race towards the odd collection of figures before them.

Emma does not respond, only stares at Henry with naked curiosity for a second before looking down at the crumpled man at her feet. By now, the crocodile has ceased his shaking and the majority of his sobs and is now staring up at Emma with pure wonder. The sick feeling in the pit of David's stomach intensifies and Snow lets out a small noise of distress, mirrored in the growl that rumbles from Hook's throat.

The odd spell is broken when Henry finally rests a gentle hand on Emma's arm, only to jump back with a cry of pain a second later. The watching quartet all jerk forward but are waved off by Henry, even as he hisses and blows gently on his hand. Emma's face twists in a mirror of the pain and a vague look of fear passes over her features as she once more stares at her son, but it's quickly lost and the blank mask returns.

"Henry, step back," the croaking voice startles them all (but for Emma) as Gold makes his way wearily to his feet, tears still wet on his face. "Her magic will hurt you."

"But Grandpa-!" Henry tries and David's heart clenches at the waver in the boy's voice.

"No!" Gold snaps, practically shoving Henry towards where Hook is standing. "Listen to me you foolish child! I promise I will help her, but you need to step back."

Henry stumbles back a few steps from the force of the shove, surprise decorating his features, before it morphs into resolute anger, but Gold is already facing Emma once again. David breaks away from Snow slowly and moves quietly to his grandson's side, pulling him back just as Henry moves to go back to his mother. A quick shake of his head is all it takes to restrain the boy.

"If you lay a hand on her crocodile, I swear upon the Gods it will be the last thing you do," Hook growls and David is unsurprised to see the pirate's hook at the ready.

Gold gives no indication of hearing. Hook snarls, but a wave of Gold's hand keeps him in place.

"Dearie, I know you can hear me," Gold begins with a voice that continues to shake as if in pain, taking a small step away from Emma and clasping his hands before him. "And you need to listen. That magic coursing through you is going to kill you."

At this, another wave of a hand silences the outcry of surprise, this time from Emma, leaving everyone pawing at their throats in confusion and attempting to form any sound.

"And I know you know this," Gold continues, watching the glowing eyes focus on him. In them, he can see the dull acceptance of his words as he speaks. "So you need to take the pirates heart out now. I promise that I will not touch it and you may bind my magic to that contract if you so wish, but you are going to die and soon if you don't rid yourself of it."

There's a beat of tense silence.

Then a slow nod.

"Good," is all Gold says before taking another step away.

Watching the now brilliant aura of the former Dark One move away, Emma lifts her arms and takes a second to examine them. She can see the wild magic swirling and pooling in her bones and leaking off through the spreading cracks in skin and she can feel the two hearts in her chest going wild as they try to fight off magical overload. The magic of the earth is drawn to the focal point of light energy she has created within herself, adding itself to the mix and chipping away at her strength as well.

With a small sigh that breathes more magic than air back into the world, she takes one last look at the gleaming aura's and cords of those who surround her and brushes a light finger across the two cords twined around her wrist.

And then she plunges that same hand back into her own chest, gasping at the startling pain. Screwing her eyes shut, she ignores the roar in her ears that drowns out anything else and the tingling in her fingers, she fishes around in her own chest cavity and closes a careful hand around the heart that does not belong in her chest.

Time to end the insanity plan.

She vaguely realizes that it worked.

Sort of.

Clenching her teeth in preparation, white magic now roiling and pulsating strongly at her core, she breathes out and _pulls._

Suddenly, her hand is free and holding that bright red heart in the palm of her hand. She stares at it in wonderment.

Then the world comes crashing down; Emma's vision grows dark, her knees give out as the magic bread from her madness bursts free and she collapses. In the brief second before anyone can move, sensation returns to her body.

The cracks formed from the wild magic start to ooze.

And Emma _screams_.


End file.
